


A Song of Hoops and Dunks

by kooperfan



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), basketball - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 06:30:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4950202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kooperfan/pseuds/kooperfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The King's Landing Tourney is soon, and Arya Stark, Sansa Stark, and the rest of the Winterfell She-Wolves basketball team are ready to take on Westeros in this most noble of sports.<br/>This is an AU where the Noble Houses determine the fate of the Realm with sick dunks.<br/>Enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Song of Hoops and Dunks

Arya wiped the sweat from her brow. She had snuck into the Winterfell gymnasium early to practice her dribbling. The King’s Landing Tourney was in less than a one week, and she felt less prepared than her ancestors facing Aegon the Conqueror on the court that fateful day almost 300 years ago. Back then, basketball had only been a three-on-three endeavor, but Westeros had progressed from such primitive ways. It was all about five-on-five games now.

  
“You’re already here?” Arya turned around and saw Sansa. Ever since her growth spurt, Sansa had become the star center of the Winterfell She-Wolves. Their mother said it was the Tully in her. Arya, a full-blooded Stark through and through, was still waiting for hers. She prayed to the Old Gods and the New to be able to dunk like her sister.

  
“Where else would I be? Father is out on a hunt, and Robb and Jon have joined him.” Arya aimed for the net. Miss.

  
“Clearly you have a lot of work to do,” joked Sansa. Arya stuck out her tongue.

  
Jeyne Poole and Alys Mormont jogged onto the court, followed by Alys’ sister Lyra. The Winterfell She-Wolves were all here. Lady Catelyn had founded the team as soon as Arya could walk. She wanted to make sure her skills would be passed down to the next generation. “A lady is kind and graceful,” she often told Sansa. “But a lady can also put a man in his place with some killer layups.” Lord Eddard had fallen for her after a particularly devastating game at Harrenhall.

  
“Check this out,” said Arya. She looked left, but threw the ball right towards Alys faster than Sansa had ever seen. Maybe too fast, judging from the grimace on Alys’ face. “It’s my new technique. I call it Needle.”

  
“It’s a good start,” said Sansa. “But you need to control the ball more. It’s like a dance.”

  
Arya stuck out her tongue. “You can’t dance on the court!”

  
“Did Syrio teach you nothing?” Sansa took the ball from Alys. “Watch.” She dribbled down the court faster than a wildling chasing a deer. Jeyne couldn’t do anything to stop her sweet dunk.

  
“Amazing, Sansa!” wheezed Jeyne.

  
“Thanks.” Sansa grinned. She loved the attention. She felt like she was becoming the star ball player from one of her stories. Though, she knew she would never be as good as her hero, Brienne the Dunk Queen.

  
All five girls jumped when a shrill whistle echoed through the room. “Are we just going to stand here and wait for winter? Let’s go, ladies!” Coach Stannis Baratheon, Lord of Storm’s End, kept whistling until the girls started their laps. “I want to see some effort!”

  
“He’s on the warpath today,” said Sansa. She couldn’t help but think it had something to do with the woman in red. She was usually on the sidelines, leafing through complicated looking books, but today she was nowhere to be found. She hoped nothing bad had happened.

  
“I miss Syrio,” muttered Arya. Though Syrio Forel had been a relentless worker, he never lost his temper with the girls. Coach Stannis always seemed one teeth grinding away from total insanity.

  
“Focus on the game,” said Sansa. Hating on Stannis would get them nowhere.

  
After more warmups, Stannis had the team take a knee.

  
“Okay, girls. We all know what’s coming,” he said. “But I’ll tell you again so its stuck in your head like ‘The Bear and the Maiden Fair’.”

Stannis pointed at his trusty whiteboard. On it was a sketch of a massive metal trophy. Arya saw it every night in her dreams.

  
“The ultimate prize of the King’s Landing Tourney: The Iron Cup.”

  
Forged from the pillaged trophies of Aegon the Conqueror’s enemy teams, the Iron Cup was the most coveted basketball prize in all of Westeros, and Essos as well. The Targaryens had held the Cup for years, but only Coach Stannis’ own brother, Bobby “The Boar” Baratheon, had upset their dynasty. After such a crushing defeat, Aerys “The Mad King” Targaryen had fled to Essos, swearing revenge. He was rumored to be training his family in the ways of old Valyria, but remained missing.

  
Bobby the Boar claimed he could take him on again and again, but Stannis was doubtful. Bobby had traded the baller life for the drinking one ages ago. Stannis found this disgusting, and vowed to train the best basketball team in the Seven Kingdoms in order to protect the Baratheon Dynasty. The She-Wolves were his best bet.

  
“So I ask you, ladies of Winterfell. Who will claim the Iron Cup?” Stannis’ steely gaze took each girl in turn.

  
“We will!” they all cheered.

  
“Finish my sentence: In the game of basketball…”

  
“You win or you get served!” they roared, Arya loudest of all.

  
“Now let’s destroy those Lannister pretenders!”

  
Sansa was so excited she sunk four radical dunks in a row.

  
***

  
“Let’s hear it for Podrick ‘THE PAIN’!” roared Lord Varys, the most enthusiastic basketball commentator in Westeros.

  
The first game of the tournament was in its final quarter. The Winterfell She-Wolves were tied 40-40 with the Casterly Rockets, the richest team in Westeros.

  
“Show them what lions can do!” cried Coach Tywin Lannister.

  
The Imp had surprisingly good defense. He was able to sneak the ball away from the taller players with ease and pass it to his brother Jaime, the one-handed wonder. His sister, Cersei, hated basketball yet sat on the sidelines. She looked incredibly bored, but seemed to be checking out Coach Stannis. Coach Stannis only had eyes for the game. He gritted his teeth.

  
“WHAT! WHAT!” Joffrey boasted for pretty much no reason.

  
“That’s enough, Joffrey!” called his mother.

  
“I can’t believe I used to date him,” muttered Sansa, rolling her eyes. She cupped her mouth and yelled to Arya. “Get Tyrion!” Arya and Tyrion were about the same height, but Arya outclassed him in all areas of the sport.

  
“Boom!” cried Arya as she smacked the ball from the Imp’s fingers. She passed it to Alys, but Jaime intercepted her.

  
“The things I do for love,” said Jaime, knocking Alys to the ground.

  
Sansa gasped. “Oh, hells no!” She chased Jaime down the court. He aimed for the net, and only found the future Lady of Winterfell.

  
The ball slammed into Joffrey’s face. “Oops,” said Sansa.

  
Jeyne took the ball and scored a three-pointer. Only seconds after, Samwell Tarley blew his horn twice. One blast meant the period was over. Two blasts meant the game had ended. Three blasts meant White Walkers, but they didn’t exist so it was fine.

  
“We won!” yelled Alys with a bloody nose.

  
Podrick dragged Joffrey off the court, where his mother tended to his wounds.

  
“You could have protected him,” Cersei snapped at Jaime. Jaime just shrugged.

  
Coach Tywin didn’t even look at Tyrion. Tyrion said, “Father, if you will excuse me,” and began drinking wine. Cersei gave him a look that said, “Pour me some too, you despicable half-man.” Sansa got the feeling that the Lannisters had a lot of drama off the court.

  
“How were my steals?” asked Arya.

  
Stannis gave a nod of approval. “They don’t call you ‘Arya Underfoot’ for nothing.”

  
***

  
Their game against the Highgarden Hoops had been quite uneventful. Sansa only got one good quip in before they wrecked them in the second half. She had stolen the ball from Loras Tyrell and spat, “At least you can joust.” Loras had cried.

  
The girls cooled off in the locker room. They could hear the Queen of Thorns lashing out at her team, calling them “wilted flowers” and other insults that were even funnier coming out of such an old woman.

  
Stannis entered, gritting his teeth and carrying a piece of parchment.

  
“Was that the raven?” Arya asked. “Who are we playing for the Iron Cup?”

  
“It’s not the Krakens, right?”

  
Stannis glared at the letter and gritted his teeth. “Seven save us,” he said.

  
“What is it?” asked Sansa.

  
Stannis continued grinding his teeth. “Daenerys Targaryen. Aerys’ daughter.”

  
The Winterfell She-Wolves gasped.

  
“So it’s true,” said Coach Stannis, grinding his teeth. “The Targaryen girl has entered the tournament.”

  
“Are you kidding me? They beat the Sand Snakes?” Arya had never seen Obara lose.

  
“This so-called ‘Mother of Dragons’ has no claim to the Iron Cup,” said Stannis through gritted teeth. “It is mine by right! I mean… ours by right.”

  
“We have to win,” said Sansa. “We have to.”

***

  
The day had finally come. Daenerys Targaryen, Mother of Dragons, touched Westeros soil for the first time since her family lost to Bobby the Boar at the Trident Tournament. She was only a young girl and knew little of the ways of war, but she could smoke any sucker who dared challenge her on the court.

  
“My queen, we have arrived,” said Coach Jorah of Kahleesi’s Dragons.

  
Cersei Lannister saw the boat row ashore from her window. She drank more wine.

  
“The Iron Cup is mine by right,” declared Daenerys, stepping out of the boat.

  
“You keep saying that, my queen…” Coach Jorah hesitated. “But sometimes I don’t think you know what you’re talking about.”

  
Daenerys’ eyes filled with fury. Dragon fury. Drogon, Viserion, and Rhaegal flocked to her side. “Excuse me, Coach Jorah?”

  
“I misspoke. Forgive me, my queen,” said Jorah.

  
“Never forget that I am Daenerys Targaryen, Mother of Dragons, Breaker of Score Records, Kahleesi Abdul Jabbar of the Dothraki Sea, Truly Sick Basketball Phenomenon. And the Iron Cup shall be mine, as it was my father’s before me.” Dany looked towards the Royal Court majestically. “Kahleesi’s Dragons… Are you ready?”

  
Missandei, Grey Worm, Strong Belwas, and Daario “Dunk City” Naharis nodded.

  
“Then I believe it is time,” said Dany. “The Winterfell She-Wolves can live in my new world… or be noobs in their old one.”

  
***

  
Stannis had never been more nervous, but he couldn’t let it show. The girls needed Stannis the Mannis, damn it.

  
“It’s just like we’ve practiced,” he said. “Stick to the fundamentals… trust each other… and always keep control of the ball.”

  
Sansa’s lemon cakes weren’t sitting well with all of these butterflies. Arya saw how nervous she was and fought to hide her worries even more. Syrio would have told her that her fears could never really hurt her. She could tell herself that, but it didn’t seem as true.

  
“Let’s go,” said Stannis. The Mormont sisters gave a halfhearted cheer.

  
When the girls walked onto the Royal Court, the crowd took them by surprise. All the noble houses, even the Lannisters and the Greyjoys, flew Stark banners. Westeros was behind them, and they couldn’t lose to the Targaryen girl.

  
Then they saw Dany’s team, and their support became as pointless as nipples on a breastplate.

  
Each player on Khaleesi’s Dragons radiated intensity. Even their coach seemed wise beyond his years. Their uniforms had three-headed dragons emblazoned on the front, and three actual dragons crossed the skies above their heads.

  
“My children will not harm you,” said Daenerys. “I cannot say the same for me.” She put her silver hair into a ponytail and said, “When you play the game of basketball, you win or you get served.”

  
Sansa and Arya gulped.

  
The teams got in position. Sandor Clegane threw the ball in the air and the game began.

  
Alys started with the ball, but sneaky Missandei stole it like she stole the hearts of the crowd. She passed it to Dany before Sansa could blink.

  
Dany pulled a radical double backflip towards the net. Arya watched it happen in slow motion above her head. As Dany scored, Arya heard her whisper, “Dracarys.”

  
“How… how did she do that?” asked Sansa in amazement.

  
“She has the blood of the dragon,” said Coach Jorah, in her ear for some reason.

  
“I didn’t realize dragons were good at basketball,” said Arya.

  
“Dragons can accomplish a number of things,” said Dany, barely breaking a sweat. “But mostly, dragons win.” She nodded at her teammates. The five players stood in a V formation, with Dany at the front. She held the ball, motionless.

  
“W-what’s happening?” asked Jeyne.

  
“Seven hells,” said Coach Stannis as the whistle dropped from his lips. “They’re attempting The Black Dread.”

  
“Ridiculous,” said Cersei, who had been inching closer and closer to Stannis since the game began. “It has only been done once before, at the Tower of Joy.”

  
“And Ned Stark was the only one to survive with his baller skills intact,” finished Stannis. He gritted his teeth. The girls didn’t stand a chance.

  
“Now,” said Dany. The players scattered.

  
Alys watched Strong Belwas charge. “What do we do?” she cried.

  
Sansa took a deep breath. The sound of the crowd faded away. She could only hear the Godswood, the serene movements of the red leaves. She could only see the ball beneath her foe.

  
Sansa charged at Strong Belwas. Her bravery was rewarded with a quick shove. She fell to the ground, biting her tongue in the process.

  
“Sansa!” said Arya. She was too late to keep Dany from the net. The Dragon Queen flew into the air.

  
Dany’s tubular dunk was interrupted by a chilling noise, and an even more chilling feeling of dread.

  
Samwell Tarly had blown the horn three times.

  
“Impossible,” said Stannis through gritted teeth.

  
Jaime Lannister screamed and grabbed for his sister, who pushed him away.

  
Three figures, eight feet tall and seemingly made of solid ice, slowly advanced upon the King’s Landing Court.

  
“White Walkers!” screamed one of the smallfolk. Chaos erupted in the stands. Everyone ran for their lives.

  
Except for the Winterfell She-Wolves and Daenerys Targaryen.

  
Arya wanted to run. She wanted to scream and hide until Sansa told her everything was better. She knew that was impossible, so she stood her ground.

  
Sansa stared at the White Walkers and felt frozen in place. Why were they here? They only existed in Old Nan’s stories, didn’t they?

  
The Night King spoke in a voice that seemed to belong to eons long past. “We… demand… a pick-up game.”

  
All of Westeros seemed to gasp.

  
“We… will play as we did… eight thousand years ago.”

  
Sansa said, “You… you can’t possibly mean…”

  
“Three… on three.” The Night King was flanked by two White Walkers.

  
Alys, Lyra, and Jeyne immediately pushed Sansa and Arya forward. “You guys are the best players the North has ever seen,” said Alys.  “You have to save Westeros!” Sansa and Arya could not protest. The White Walkers were anxious to begin the game. Perhaps they did not enjoy the sun, though they had brought the cold with them.

Daenerys walked to Sansa’s side. “It’s okay, Sansa Stark. I will be the third head of the dragon.”

  
Arya wanted to tell her that not everything had to be about dragons, but held her tongue.

  
“Save the realm!” shouted Stannis. Cersei clapped enthusiastically, and the noble houses all joined in.

  
Arya, Sansa, and Daenerys were about to play the most important game of basketball in the history of Westeros. The White Walkers threatened to serve the entire continent, and these three girls were the last line of defense.

  
Sandor Clegane threw the ball in the air, and the match began.

 

***

  
Sansa could barely breathe. “How… how do we still have a quarter left?”

  
The score was 88 to 87, with the White Walkers in the lead. About halfway through the game, Coach Stannis had stormed onto the court and screamed at the Night King for leaving patches of ice everywhere. Arya had suffered a nasty bruise on her tailbone because of them. The Night King agreed to keep his powers of snow and wind under control for the rest of the match. Sansa, Arya, and Dany were barely keeping up.

  
Sansa had to admire Dany’s ferocious play style. She was quite like Arya, in a way. Yet when they decided on their plays, Dany would look to Sansa. Dany understood that this was bigger than her, and needed someone with a level head. Sansa’s grace and sportsmanship would decide the fate of the Seven Kingdoms.

  
“We’re almost there,” said Sansa. “Just breathe. Look at the scoreboard. Arya, if you keep up the defense, we can keep the gap from getting any wider. Daenerys…” Dany’s steely violet gaze pierced Sansa. “Can you still dunk?”

  
“I will do what queens do,” she said for some reason. “I shall dunk.”

  
“Let’s take these monsters down once and for all!” Sansa, Arya, and Dany got into position.

  
“You can do this!” yelled Stannis.

  
“I can’t watch!” said Cersei, burying her face into Stannis’ shoulder. Stannis gritted his teeth.

  
“You… will fail,” said the Night King.

  
“Starks don’t fail!” yelled Arya as one of the White Walkers charged her for the ball. She passed to Sansa, who passed to Dany, already in position.

  
“Drogon!” cried Dany, Mother of Dragons, as she caught the ball.

  
A shadow overtook the court. The White Walkers seemed to gasp. Arya and Sansa certainly did. Drogon, the largest and blackest of Dany’s dragons, swooped down towards the court.

  
Drogon spat some flames at his mother. They engulfed the basketball in her hands, setting it ablaze.

  
“Dany! Your hands!” yelled Arya.

  
“Fire cannot kill a dragon,” said Dany. She jumped.

  
Daenerys dunked the flaming ball so hard that one of the White Walkers melted. The remaining Walker and the Night King could only stare.

  
The crowd was silent, except for the nervous giggles of Podrick.

  
The ball, still on fire, bounced towards Arya. The White Walker jumped out of the way, afraid.

  
“Hey Night King,” said Arya, looking like the wolf she truly was, carrying the flaming heart of her enemy. “Catch.” She threw the ball directly through the White Walker and at the Night King’s chest, carving a hole in his icy heart. Needle didn’t disappoint.

  
The Night King fell to the ground, and croaked one final wind of winter. “Oh… shit…” were his final words, and they would echo throughout Westeros forever.

  
“Westeros is saved!” declared Samwell Tarly. The remnants of the crowd cheered.

  
“Wait!” Coach Jorah ran onto the court and examined the Night King’s melting corpse. “Of course. It all fits the prophecy,” he muttered, seemingly to himself. He turned to Arya, who stared right back, wolf eyes burning. Her hands burned as well.

  
“What prophecy?” she asked.

  
Coach Jorah grabbed her arm and said, “Born of salt and getting totally smoked. Arya Stark…You are… the Player that Was Promised.”

  
The crowd gasped again. A man named Davos Seaworth looked pretty disappointed, but masked it behind his clapping.

  
“I’m what?” Arya couldn’t believe these words. She was no one. But now…

  
“You are meant to lead the game of basketball out of darkness,” said Dany. “And today, it would seem you have done so.”

  
“But it wasn’t just me!” said Arya. “You and Sansa were just as important!”

  
Sansa smiled. “But we didn’t have that great technique that finished off the Night King. You’re special, Arya. And I don’t like admitting it, but I’ve always known it.”

  
The Stark sisters hugged, their bond strengthening with each second.

  
“Quite a game,” said Cersei on the sidelines.

  
“I would say so,” said Stannis.

  
“Thank you for keeping me calm during such excitement,” said Cersei.

  
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were using me as a shield,” said Stannis.

  
Cersei blushed. “I should like to see more of you. Would you like that?”

  
“Perhaps I could find the time,” said Stannis, blushing.

  
“Words are wind, sweetling,” said Cersei. “You will arrive at the Red Keep tomorrow at sundown. See you there.”

  
Stannis smiled so widely that he couldn’t even grind his teeth. Sansa watched these events with a slight smile. The woman in red would be just an unpleasant memory soon enough.

  
The Mormont sisters and Jeyne rejoined their teammates on the court, awaiting their prize. Lord Varys rolled out the Iron Cup in all its glory. The girls shrieked with delight.

  
“We did it!” cried the Winterfell She-Wolves. Arya pulled Coach Stannis into the celebration. Dany looked on with a sad smile, until Sansa extended a hand to her as well.

  
“We couldn’t have saved Westeros without you, Dany,” said Sansa. “The Iron Cup is as much yours as it is ours.”

  
“I suppose I can share. I wouldn’t want to become my father,” said Dany.

  
Samwell Tarly waddled down from his horn with a strange device in his hands. “Maester Aemon tells me this is a piece of technology from the shadowlands of Asshai that is able to produce portraits without paint in no time at all. Everyone, gather around the Iron Cup!”

  
Sansa, Arya, Alys, Lyra, Jeyne, Stannis, and Dany joined arms and smiled. Sam clicked a button, and the moment was preserved forever.

  
“It’s time to go home,” said Sansa. “Winterfell needs us.”

  
Arya nodded. “We may have defeated the Night King, but who knows when the White Walkers will attack again?”

  
“Mother and Father will need our dope skills if the Starks are to survive the off season.”

  
“And they shall have them. After we party!” Arya threw some coins at the musicians, who began a rendition of the Westeros classic “Hey Ya”.

  
Everyone danced until their troubles disappeared, and everyone in Westeros lived happily ever after.

THE END


End file.
